


souls sewn

by avapacifica



Series: October Writing Challenge 2019 [12]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Acceptance, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Canon Disabled Character, Costumes, Dark, F/M, Fear, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Illnesses, Lies, Mild Gore, Murder, Self-Acceptance, Stalking, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 03:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avapacifica/pseuds/avapacifica
Summary: all it takes is one final straw for Becky to truly accept her fate





	souls sewn

**Author's Note:**

> Day 12: Hospital  
I will forever complain about this, Becky Albright deserves better than a one off comic more than 20 years old. DC needs to use her again, and I will fight this to the end. I'll even write it for them god damn, just use her again! Anyways, I got tired of no new content for her and made this. Enjoy!

Becky wakes up, and if everything wasn’t so crowded around her eyesight, she’d say she was in the hospital. Then it hits her, her damned spine must’ve made her fall again, she is in the hospital, but she hit her head. That certainly would explain the lack of most of her vision. The only thing she doesn’t understand is how she can see partially. She would think the bandages would cover her eyes.

She turns on her right side, looking for the familiar button that would alert a nurse she was awake. Instead Becky finds it already clasped in her hand, the clicking sound it makes is a relief to her ears. While the pain medication should keep her knocked out, she had developed a habit over the years to always find the mechanism in her sleep. She thinks its a calming device for her unconscious self, to have help always a push away.   


“That won’t work Becky.” A maniacal voice says from her left. She turns her head, recognizing it, but not wanting to believe it. Beside her sits Scarecrow. He’s crouching on a chair, like a vulture stalking it’s prey. If only these stupid bandages weren’t on her face, maybe she would’ve seen him with her peripherals. 

When she was little, her mother had always chastised her for pressing the help button more than once. The nurses saw, and they would be here soon. The knowledge had stuck with Becky into adulthood, and now, even when in great pain, she would always wait. But she couldn’t afford to be patient. Not anymore. Her fingers press as rapidly as they’re able.

“I killed them all. Just for you” Her head turns around, desperately trying to locate another human. It’s scaring her that she sees no one. The bright hospital lights seem dimmer, and the regular buzz that it always holds just isn’t. He couldn’t have, and yet what else is she to believe? “I brought this for you.” He tells her, and hands her an antique mirror. The almost spotless surface seems to be mocking her.

Becky sits up in the bed, fear coursing through her veins. It’s what he wants, she knows. But she just can’t help it. She holds the mirror up to her face. The result is horrifying. The costume he had made for her, the one she told him so many times she didn’t want. She’s wearing it. The limited eye sight, it hadn’t been bandages. It had been  _ him. _

She pulls at the burlap, wanting nothing more than to get it off her body. But every yank at the costume stings her skin. Nevertheless, she keeps pulling. Blood starts to seep through the fabric, making her hands sticky and red.

“What did you do to me?!” She wants to yell, but she hates to say that her tone is terrified. She can barely get the question above a whisper. He hops down from the chair and offers her his hand. 

“Come now, we’ll need a bigger mirror for this.” She’ll follow him, taking his hand even since she doesn’t know where her cane is. But it's only because she needs answers, he’s stills scaring her. She’d almost ask to be carried, as sick as it sounds. But she’s seen Jonathan in court, she knows he’s just as physically weak as she is. So she doesn’t ask. He leads her down a dark hallway, the lights are flickering like some stereotypical horror movie. Becky feels like the dumb girl who’s about to get murdered. They take a sharp right, and she’s pulled into the brightest room she’s seen since she woke up. 

She takes a long look in the mirror, eyeing herself up and down. Her bright red hair is sticking out between the dull brown straw hair from the mask. Her eyes, which had always been her favorite part of herself, are still visible through the eye holes. The bright green actually stuck out. The chest piece clings to her body, but she doesn’t hate it. It doesn’t highlight her sickly body, because the outfit itself is strange enough to distract the beholder. The skirt is a stained white, she thinks she sees dried blood.

“How do you like it, my dear?” the Scarecrow asks, placing a firm hand on her bare shoulder. She shivers under it.

“It’s.. nice.” The words surprise even herself, but she can’t find it in herself to lie. There isn’t anything wrong with it.

“I do apologize for sewing it to your face. You were just so reluctant, I needed to show you how perfect you would look in it. We can remove it later if you’d like.” She takes a step closer to the mirror.

“How did I end up here?” she asks.

“Some boys attacked. They saw you as weak and tried to steal your purse. I stopped them, but not before they had pushed you over.” It’s a lie of course, she had tripped and hit her head. He had been watching, and he had brought her to the hospital, but he certainly wasn’t the hero he was making himself out to be. 

“Funny.” she says, rubbing at the straw. “I don’t remember that. Though I suppose I could’ve forgotten.” The last part is laced with resentment, Jonathan would know that tone anywhere. He’s had that maddening feeling before, towards just about everyone that hurt him. That emotion is what made him turn against the world. Suddenly she’s facing him, and Scarecrow doesn’t think he’s ever seen such beauty.

“Thank you for saving me.” she tells him, “I don’t know why you still watch me, but I’m glad you were.” It’s a strange thing to admit she’s okay with someone stalking her, but not to the point where Becky won’t tell him. 

“Of course, anything for you.” He pauses, now’s a good a time as any. “So Becky,” he likes her name, making a point to accentuate the last syllable, “will you join me in getting back at Gotham and all those who have hurt us?”

She thinks it over. She hasn’t been assaulted like that in years. She forgot how much it stings, to know that there are people that know they can hurt her, and therefore do so. She looks back into the mirror, and she likes what she sees. It’s honestly the first time ever she’s been happy with her appearance. He did that for her. 

“I think I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're one of the few people who might read this, I hope you enjoyed. I'm actually pretty proud of this. Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


End file.
